Ten
by joiedevivre2011
Summary: Jane is stressed about a case and she's tried everything she can think of to relax, except one thing. 1st person POV. [now a two shot. complete.]
1. Chapter 1

So originally I had the idea for this fic probably months ago at this point, and had maybe a hundred words or so written for it, but it just wasn't happening at the time. The other night BostonRocket, inappropriate-sugartits, and I were all talking about story ideas and this fic came to mind. I opened the document and suddenly realized that what I needed was 1st person POV, not 3rd person (not that you really care either way). This is the end result. Thanks to those fabulous ladies once again for reading my crazy stories.

There IS mention of Casey in this fic. A lot of mentioning, in fact, including to sex, but no specific, erm, references, I guess, if you get what I mean. Casey and Jane ARE in a relationship, but that everyone should know by now that ship Jane and Maura harder than I've shipped any other fictional characters in my entire life. So trust me...you're gonna like the way this one eventually goes.

All of that said...enjoy~

* * *

Time and time again, Maura has informed me of the benefits of sex, including masturbation, especially placing emphasis on the benefits for stress relief. And every time she mentions it, it never fails to make me cringe. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's because I was raised Catholic. Maybe because I think it's a private subject. Maybe I'd just rather do than talk.

Casey and I have sex often enough. I think. I mean, I think it's a normal amount.

But that's not the point. The point is I'm in the middle of an incredibly intense case. Tension is knotted in my shoulder blades to the point of tears, and it takes a lot to make me want to cry. Nothing I've done so far has brought me any relief. I've done yoga with Maura. I had a couple of beers last night. Casey and I even had sex last night, or maybe I should say tried to, but I, much to his concern and dismay, just couldn't get off.

I think it bruised his ego more than anything because he left my apartment last night in the biggest sulking mood I've ever seen him in.

But I was so irritated, I didn't give a shit. _He_ got off. I didn't. Couldn't. Whatever.

The only thing I haven't tried to relieve my stress is masturbate. It's probably the first thing Maura would have suggested had I told her how stressed out I've been, but I've been so busy with the case that I haven't seen her much.

So here I am, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, forcing myself to try and remember some weird yoga breath Maura has repeatedly told me about that would help relieve tension, but all I can actually think about is how much I just want to get off, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that there's not something even more wrong with me than normal.

"I hate Maura," I mumble to myself. Mostly I hate her because I know she would approve of this, more than she'd approve of the alcohol or even sex with Casey, but that's probably because she has some issue about my relationship and won't tell me what it is.

I think back to the last time I had sex with Casey that ended well for both of us and I realize the only reason why I had an orgasm is because I had my own hand between my legs, touching myself.

Finally I slip my left hand down my stomach and underneath the waistband of my underwear, grazing my clit, down to my lips, parting them. I'm not even wet and this frustrates me even further. I think about the things Casey does to me during sex and lightly rub my middle finger over my clit. Up and down, side to side. Taking my time, trying to tease myself and make myself wet.

Thinking about sex with Casey isn't helping though, so I quickly try to think of some male celebrity for fodder, but can't settle on any particular one.

Suddenly Maura crosses my mind out of nowhere. I flush with guilt and close my eyes at the thought of touching myself while thinking about her and then there's another feeling I hadn't expected.

A rush of arousal.

Her brilliant smile, her ever-changing eyes, her always perfect, shiny hair. I think about the way her eyes sparkle when I enter the room, like I'm the best thing about her day. Her smile always kills me, melts my heart instantly on impact.

Image after image of Maura's low-cut dresses while she's kneeling at a crime scene flashes through my mind. I realize suddenly that I pay attention to them, unconsciously filing a mental note away about every single one. Silk sleepwear in the morning, no bra, hardened nipples pressing against the smooth fabric.

It's impossible to hold back a moan when I realize that my best friend turns me on.

Almost reluctantly I dip my finger between my lips and my suspicion is confirmed.

I'm wet.

And thinking about Maura has made me that way.

I bite my lip in hesitation, stilling my movements.

Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly and remind myself that I'm alone. Nobody can hear my thoughts, nobody will ever know what I'm doing.

Thoughts of Maura continue to fly through my mind as I begin to move my fingers over my clit.

I think back to last summer when Maura and I took a day trip to the beach and just how _fan-fucking-tastic_ her body looked in that blue-green designer bikini. The bottoms hugged her perfectly toned ass and the top...Jesus. I caught myself staring several times that day and had to force myself to look away.

And now I realize what an idiot I really am.

That all the attraction and noticing and desire have been there all along and I've just been too caught up in my own shit to pay any attention to it.

At this point my fingers feel so fucking good moving over my clit and I know release is not far away. Nothing at all like last night. Now I'm nearing the edge just waiting to fly over it this time.

I can't remember the last time my build-up to an orgasm has felt so good. And naughty. Touching myself when I'm thinking about a woman, and not just any woman. Maura. I'm laying on my back, feet flat on the bed, legs spread wide, masturbating to how attractive and sexy I find my very best female friend.

"Fuuuuck," I moan softly, pressing down harder on my clit as my fingers continue to circle it. My toes curl into the bed as I try to imagine Maura entirely naked, mentally Photoshopping her swimsuit right off her body.

But I want, need more.

I release the white sheets my right hand has been gripping tightly and drop it to my hips as I reluctantly pull my left hand from inside my underwear. Frantically I push the no longer wanted fabric down my thighs and kick it away before moving both hands between my legs, my right shoulder coming off the bed slightly as I slip my right middle and ring fingers inside. I curl them upwards, repeatedly pressing that one spot that always causes the most delicious twinge in my lower belly.

And then suddenly I'm imagining Maura's fingers inside me. Perfectly manicured, long slender fingers. Ones that would easily hit this spot that's got a fire burning deep inside me, begging to be unleashed.

I'm almost there and I can feel my entire body right on the edge.

Pulling my fingers out slightly, I quickly push in a third and curl, never stopping my left hand.

The extra pressure is just what I need.

"Mauraaaa," I cry out into my empty bedroom, my feet pushing into the mattress as my back arches off the bed in intense pleasure. My left fingers move faster over my clit, trying to make my orgasm last just a little bit longer.

Finally I collapse back to the bed, pulling out my fingers, my legs sliding back to the bed. I rest my arms at my sides, my body feeling like putty.

I keep my eyes closed as my breaths come in pants.

It's the best orgasm I've had in months, maybe even _years_.

"_Maura_?" comes a gruff voice from my open doorway. "Are you fucking _serious_, Jane?"

My eyes fly open in terror and immediately I sit upright to find Casey standing at the entrance of my bedroom, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the scene before him.

"Casey, it's not what you think," I choke out, trying to think of a still likely piss poor excuse to give him for what he has just witnessed.

"It's not what I think?" he growls. "I just came into my girlfriend's bedroom to find her touching herself while crying out her best friend's name and _it's not what I think_?"

"Casey, c'mon," I plead. "It's just...this case has got me so stressed out right now and I'm just trying-"

"I tried for nearly an hour and a half last night to please you in every way that I could and you still just couldn't 'get there.' So just now all you had to do was fantasize about Maura for 20 minutes and suddenly that's all it takes?"

"Ten," I whisper, looking down, red-faced and ashamed.

"Excuse me?"

"It only took me ten minutes," I explain, still not meeting his eyes. I want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

"Christ, Jane," he replies, exasperated. He slaps his hand against the wood trim of the doorway. "That really takes the cake." He runs his fingers through his hair and turns partially away from me, almost as if he's about to head back down the hallway and right out of my apartment.

When I finally look up, I have tears in my eyes and I try not to blink. "I'm sorry, Casey," I say softly.

"Do you think of her when we make love, Jane?" he asks suddenly, still not facing me. "Is it Maura you wish could be on top of you, touching you, kissing you?"

Realizing I have no choice but to be honest, I reply, "I...I don't know."

Finally he turns back toward me. "You obviously need time to sort out what you want."

A few minutes of silence pass, and for once, I'm at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, Casey," I repeat.

"Me too," he agrees softly. "I'll come back tomorrow evening to collect my belongings I've left here, if that's alright with you."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, sure. I'll, uh, just text you or something if I'm not going to be here."

He nods in understanding and then finally turns to leave.

The heavy clunk of his boots on my hardwood floors softens and I hear my apartment door open, then slam shut.

And I'm left wondering what in the world I'm going to do about the fact that I just realized I'm attracted to my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

I honestly had no intentions o adding to this story. I _truly_ didn't and you can ask my partners in crime (BostonRocket and inappropriate-sugartits) if you want, even though they too begged. After I got a review (that I wasn't quite sure if it was angry or not) about being one of _those_ authors who lures the reader into a clearly not finished story by marking it complete, I was definitely hell-bent on pissing off that reviewer by not continuing (which I know isn't very nice).

But damn if the start of this chapter didn't slam into my brain the other day and take hold of everything inside of it. So here we are, over 3900 words later.

Bless my two wonderful betas for staying up far too late tonight, anxious for me to finish. Only one of them made it to the end with me.

* * *

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Casey?" Maura asks me out of the blue. "It's been over two months."

It's just after 8pm on a Thursday. Maura is sitting on a stool at my kitchen bar while I, ironically, putter around the kitchen finishing dinner. I had insisted on chicken stir fry, Maura on tofu stir fry, but seeing as neither of us had been willing to give, there's a portion of chicken cooking for me and a portion of tofu already cooked for her.

I pour in some cashews - organic, of course, just like Maura likes - and stir the vegetables in the wok. Placing a lid on the small sauté pan with chicken, I lower the heat on that burner and finally turn toward my best friend, who is munching on her already cooked half of the stir fry.

"No," I say simply. The last thing I want Maura to know is that Casey basically broke up with me because he caught me moaning out _her_ name when masturbating. I still struggle not to blush when I think about it.

"But we're best friends. Isn't there some sort of unspoken rule denoting that, in the event of a breakup of one party from his or her significant other, the details must be shared?" Maura looks at me pointedly and takes a sip of her wine.

I shrug. "Probably."

"Probably," Maura echoes, picking up her chopsticks and lifting a bite of food from her plate to her mouth. Just before she puts the bite in her mouth, she looks up at me and continues, "But you're not going to share them?"

"The details don't matter, Maura." God, I really do not want to be having this conversation.

Immediately she swallows her chewed food and refutes, "I beg to differ. Details matter greatly."

I smirk and look down at my own wine glass. "Naturally you would say that."

"It couldn't have been _that_ bad, Jane," Maura tells me softly. "You didn't appear very upset. In fact, you seemed to be relieved more than any other emotion."

"Ohh, it was pretty bad actually," I shoot back, raising my eyebrows and tilting my head briefly to the side with a grimace, but not meeting Maura's gaze.

"Is he getting deployed back to Afghanistan?" she asks quietly, taking another bite of food.

I shake my head. Take another sip of wine.

Maura pushes the veggies and tofu around her plate with her chopsticks and her brow furrows. "Is he already married?"

Finally I look up to meet her curious gaze. The thought of Casey being married to someone is funny to me for some reason. I laugh lightly. "Nope, not married."

I let go of my wine glass and turn back to the stove, lifting the cover of the pan with chicken. Satisfied that it's properly cooked, I scoop up the pieces and drop them into the wok, then turn off that burner. I quickly stir in the chicken pieces with my half of the veggies, turn off the burner the wok is on, and then plate the mix on a bed of rice.

Maura pulls my wine glass to the seat to her left at the counter and I move around the counter and her to settle in beside her to eat, opting for a fork instead of chopsticks.

"This is really good, Jane," she says softly, sticking out her elbow to brush against mine.

"I _can_ cook you know," I reply in defense. "It just feels pointless to when it's just me."

"I know you can. I love when you cook."

My eyes widen in surprise. "You do? Why?"

She nods at me. "Becaus e you only seem to do so when you and I eat together, so it makes me feel special," she admits, blushing.

"You _are_ special." I place my right hand on top of her left and brush my thumb gently back and forth. "At least to me," I add with a smile.

Immediately I flash back to another conversation in nearly this same spot after Maura and Tommy almost had a thing. "I like Tommy a lot, but I _love_ you," she had said.

My stomach flutters at the correlations between that conversation and this one and I blink back to the present to see her observing me quietly.

"Are you going to make me keep guessing why you two broke up? You know I don't like to guess."

I only shrug.

She leans back slightly and slips her hand from underneath mine so that she can take a sip of her wine. Then she turns in her seat to look more directly at me.

Turning my head to look at her, I notice that her expression is serious and concerned, so I instantly set down my fork. "What?"

"I hate to ask this, but," Maura hesitates as she takes a breath. "Did Casey force himself on you, Jane? Or somehow otherwise physically hurt you?"

My eyes widen. "What? No! You know I would have reported that. I would've pressed charges. I know how many rape cases actually get reported compared to how often it happens. I would have done something and you know it." My words are spewing out of me, absolutely refusing the idea.

"Okay," Maura replies softly, clearly searching my face to make sure I'm telling the truth. "It's just that you won't tell me what happened, so I'm left here with scenario after scenario going through my mind and no clue as to which one could possibly have happened to cause your breakup with Casey."

"So you're using process of elimination in order to determine what happened?" I raise my eyebrow.

"I suppose you could look at it that way, yes," she replies, a smile tugging at her lips.

I shift back in my seat and stab my fork through a piece of broccoli and chicken before lifting it to my mouth. Glancing sideways at her, I mumble, "You'll never guess," before I bite down on the food and start chewing.

We sit at my kitchen bar eating the rest of our dinner in silence, but I can tell the wheels are still turning in my best friend's head. Maura finishes her food before I do.

"Infidelity?" Maura offers quietly, shifting her body in her seat to face more toward me.

"Me or him?" I ask hesitantly, shoving the next to last bite of food in my mouth.

"Either. Both."

I chew on my food longer than normal, wondering what to say next. Swallowing my food, I take a sip of my wine. "What's your definition of infidelity?"

My Googlemouth best friend replies without hesitation, "Having an affair with someone other than your committed sexual partner, be it physical or emotional."

My teeth bite into my bottom lip as I looked down at my plate.

In Casey's eyes, he probably thought I was having an emotional affair with Maura, though he never accused me of it. Or maybe he never thought about it. I suppose I will never actually know.

But I thought about it. I still think about it.

After he and I broke up, I spent a lot of time thinking about my relationship and friendship with Maura. It was unusual, outside of the norm for two best friends in their late 30s, and anyone who tried to deny it, ourselves included, was clearly not paying attention.

Maura and I are the definition of a couple, except the fact that we didn't, and don't, have sex with each other. We eat most of our meals together. We often sleep in the same bed. When one of us is upset, we're each the first person the other goes to. I eat healthier because of her. She pays more attention to sports because of me.

"Jane?" she says my name quietly, and the sound of my name on her lips makes my heart thump wildly in my chest.

I shake my head and scoop up the last of my food on my plate, chewing and swallowing fully before speaking. I set my fork down. "No. No, Casey wasn't unfaithful to me. At least not to my knowledge."

Her eyes are trained on me and I can feel them. My cheeks begin to feel warm.

"Were you unfaithful to him?"

While her tone holds no judgment, I cannot force myself to look at her. Tears begin to prickle my eyes and I look up at the ceiling instead of closing my eyes because I know if I close them, the tears will slip down my cheeks. "Maybe kind of? I don't really know." I sigh.

She places her hand on my thigh and I feel the heat of her hand through my jeans instantly. It burns.

I shake my head as I look down at her hand on my thigh, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

Trust Maura to get to the bottom of everything with only a few questions.

"How do you do that?" I laugh bitterly, finally looking her in her concerned, beautiful eyes. "How do you always know the right questions to ask to make me fall apart like a baby and tell you everything?"

"You haven't told me everything," she replies quietly, a sad smile on her lips. "But I suppose I am a little bit of an expert on the subject of one Jane Rizzoli. I know how to crack her, so to speak."

I laugh again, only this time there is no bitterness. Just amusement.

"Couch?" I ask, tilting my head in its direction before draining the last of my wine.

Once we settle on the couch, Maura on one end with her left leg firmly on the floor and her right leg tucked underneath her, and me on the middle cushion, only inches away, slouched with my feet propped up on my coffee table, I drop my head back, but turn it to look at her. She's holding her wine glass in her left hand, looking at me, waiting for me to speak. I cannot look at her long before my stomach starts to twist in knots, so I look instead at my hands clasped together on my stomach.

"Do you remember the case I had when Casey and I broke up?" I finally asked, still looking at my thumb, which I am pressing the nail of repeatedly into the palm of my hand. "The Lewis case?"

"Of course. You hardly slept for two weeks. Your tension was the highest I've seen in quite some time," Maura said softly before her next words turned into a whisper. "You barely spoke to me."

"I tried everything I could think of to relax. Yoga with you. Beer. Sex…" I let my voice trail off. Then I realize how it might sound in the context of our conversation, so I clarify with a glance toward my best friend next to me, "With Casey, of course."

She nods at me to continue.

"The night before he and I broke up, it was a disaster," I say quietly, looking back at my hands. I feel warmth rising in my cheeks. "He tried admirably, I guess, for probably far too long to help me relax. He ended up leaving pissed off and I went to bed frustrated."

Maura nods at me again. "It can be very frustrating for both partners if one partner fails to sexually gratify the other. Not only is one partner unable to achieve orgasm, the other may then feel inadequate as a lover."

"Yeah, believe me I know how much it sucks," I reply back to her Googlemouthing.

She whispers, "I'm sorry. Continue."

"Well, the next morning I woke up still...frustrated," I say quietly. "And I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that something wasn't wrong with me, so I, you know…"

"Masturbated?" she says.

The word makes me groan. I lift my right arm and drape it over my eyes.

"How else would you like me to say it, Jane?"

"Not at all, that's how."

I lift my arm slightly and peek at her out of my left eye. She downs the last two mouthfuls of her wine and then leans forward to set her empty glass on a coaster on the corner of my coffee table.

Her brows furrow as she settles back against the pillow wedged into the corner of the couch. "So you and Casey broke up because you-" She lifts her right hand and it flows toward me in lieu of the word I dislike so much.

"No," I finally say, dropping my arm over my eyes back to my stomach, lacing my fingers together once more. "He, um, well _I_...dammit." I stop and take a deep breath. I stare at my feet on the coffee table. "He walked in on me and I was moaning someone else's name."

"I suppose I can see Casey's difficulty of witnessing that," Maura tells me quietly. "May I ask why you were moaning someone else's name?"

"I need more wine for this. Hold on," I mumble, dropping my feet off the coffee table and sitting up abruptly. I move around the end of the couch opposite from Maura and head back into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grab the bottle of Riesling, pull out the stopper, and spin around to the bar to pour myself a healthy dose. As I turn back to the fridge, out of my peripheral vision I notice Maura simply staring at me over the back of the couch. I swallow nervously at this pending conversation. I plug the wine bottle and put it back in the fridge, then gently kick the door shut behind me as I walk back to my living room, swooping my arm out as I pass the counter to pick up my wine glass.

By the time I settle back on the couch, Maura looks as if she has imagined all sorts of things about this conversation.

"You have more wine now," she replies, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do, Captain Obvious," I reply with a smile.

The next thing I know, my wine glass is leaving my hand and Maura is pouring half of my wine into her own glass. My eyes widen at her audacity and I try to reach for my wine glass, but only half-heartedly because the last thing I want to do is spill wine all over my floor and couch. "Hey, get your own! That is _so_ rude, Maura."

"I'll pour the next round," she offers, smiling back at me as she hands me my wine glass back and settles once more into her little corner of the couch. "Now, tell me why you were moaning someone else's name."

I take a long sip of my wine and hold the glass with both hands, balancing the base on my stomach. I concentrate on the liquid inside it as I speak. "Well, you know sometimes it's just necessary to fantasize about people to help a little. So I did, but I guess I got a little carried away and Casey...walked in on it." I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I know if I look at Maura right now, I'll...actually I'm not even sure what will happen.

"And you doing so caused him to want to break up with you?" Maura asks, tone disbelieving. "Jane, that's absurd. You're absolutely free to fantasize about whomever you wish when you are in the comfort of your own home, pleasuring your own body. No partner should have control over that aspect whatsoever!"

I shrug, but still cannot bring myself to look at her.

"Why would he react so intensely?" Maura asks. I then hear the clink of her wine glass on the coaster. "Jane, I just don't understand!"

Once again I shrug, then take a sip of my wine.

"Hold on. What does this have to do with infidelity? You said that you were 'maybe kind of' unfaithful to him," Maura recalls. "Because you moaned someone else's name? That's a bit of a stretch as infidelity, Jane."

It's obvious she is now looking at me, and my face has to be as red as a tomato by this point.

"Okay, you're obviously not telling me something because even _I_ can't see Casey wanting to break up with you over this situation."

I suddenly want the couch cushion I'm sitting on to become a black hole and swallow me into it. How the hell do I tell my best friend that my ex-boyfriend broke up with me because I moaned _her_ name while touching myself? _How?_

"I can't," I choke out. "I can't tell you." I can feel the lump growing in my throat and I refuse to let myself become emotional right now, so I swallow hard, pushing down my feelings in the process.

"Why not?" she asks, clearly confused. "Jane," she pauses. "Whose name did you call out?"

"You know what?" I say suddenly, setting my wine glass down on the coffee table and standing up. "It doesn't matter because I'm not even sad about my breakup with Casey. You said so yourself."

I step around Maura's leg against the edge of the couch and make my way into the kitchen, intending to start cleaning up dishes from dinner.

"Jane," Maura says.

It's _that_ tone. The one I know she always uses to get my attention. It's partially sweet, partially stern, and never fails to make my stomach feel kinda funny. I pause and almost turn around to face her, but I cannot. I absolutely cannot turn around and confess to Maura that I fantasized about her, imagined her naked, thought about her fingers inside of me, bringing me over the edge instead of myself. I cannot tell her that I moaned her name when I gave myself one of the best orgasms I've probably ever had. I cannot say that I'm about 99.999% sure at this point that I'm head over heels in love with her. I just can't do it. My fingernails dig into the palms of my hands as I take a deep breath to try and steady myself.

"Whose name, Jane?"

I can hear her stand as she speaks. Hear her footsteps as she comes up behind me, probably within arm's reach. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. The word 'yours' tumbles out as I exhale.

Her breath catches.

This is too much for me. Too far from my comfort zone to deal with.

"I have to take Jo out," I mumble and turn around, avoiding Maura's gaze. I take long strides toward the door. I grab Jo's leash from the bowl on top of the piano and the jingle of the metal on it wakes her from her slumber. She hops up and comes to me, tail wagging excitedly. I stoop down to hook the leash onto her collar, open up my apartment door, and leave, the door barely shutting behind me.

It's done. I cannot take it back. Ironically, I'm not sure I want to because while I am so terrified of what will happen when I walk back through my apartment door, I feel relieved. Maura knows. She knows that I moaned her name, that I fantasized about her. All of the little puzzle pieces in her big scientific brain will have settled into place and she will know that my heart belongs to her.

I'm not sure how long I stay outside with Jo. Maybe 20 minutes. Tonight she is reluctant to do her business, and for once, I am glad. But once she is finished, she trots back toward the steps to my apartment, eager to get inside. Eager to force me back into the same room with Maura.

Slowly I climb the steps to my apartment. As I approach my door, I stand there in front of it, frozen because I have no idea what I'm about to walk into. Jo Friday whimpers at my feet and paws softly at the door, wanting me to open it. With bated breath, I turn the door knob and push open the door slowly, then step inside, closing it softly behind me. Jo's leash is returned to the bowl on the piano.

Maura is back in her spot on the couch, elbows on her knees, fingers linked together with her mouth resting against her thumbs. She doesn't look at me as I re-enter.

I stay at the door, leaning against it because I feel awkward, not knowing where else to go.

She lifts her head off her hands, but still she does not turn to look at me, choosing instead to stare straight ahead. "Did Casey think you and I were having an affair?"

"No." Because he didn't and he told me so the day he picked up his stuff from my apartment. But I know this answer is not going to satisfy Maura. "But he did ask me if I wished he were you instead when we had sex."

She turns her head toward me and rests her temple against her linked hands. I can tell immediately that she has been crying. Not much, but she definitely still has. "What did you tell him?" she asks softly.

I bite my lip and slowly release it. "That I didn't know." I look down at my hands because I cannot handle the way she is looking at me. It's full of love, of understanding, of disbelief, of so many other emotions I can't sort through this quickly. "He told me that I obviously needed time to sort out what I want."

"Have you sorted it out yet?"

The question is not at all unexpected, but it still hits me hard. I simply nod because I cannot trust myself to speak.

Footsteps approach me. "What do you want, Jane?"

God, her voice is unbearable in the best kind of way. Tears are threatening to fall and I know soon I will not be able to stop them. "To not screw up the best thing that has ever happened to me," I breathe out.

"You won't," she replies.

"How do you know?" I ask, finally looking up at her. Her eyes are bright green and golden brown and they are sparkling with tears of their very own.

She steps closer to me, only inches left between us. She lifts her right hand and places it gently on my neck, rubbing her thumb slowly back and forth over the very faint scar there. Her eyes do not stray from mine. "Because Jane Rizzoli never gives up on someone she loves."

Finally the tears fall, slipping down my cheeks, and I am powerless to stop them.

Maura's lips, her breasts, her hips are pressed against my own, and god it is so terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I thread my fingers through her hair and pull her even closer, though I'm not sure how it's possible. Into my kiss I pour everything I have, my love, my hopes, my fears, my desire for all that she is and more.

I want to crawl inside her and stay there forever, curled up with her love.

"I love you," I whisper against her lips. "I'll never be able to love anyone but you."

* * *

If you were expecting smut...sorry. Believe me you've got plenty of other stories of mine to choose from. ;) I hope you liked this anyway.


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